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glanced over David's shoulder and surveyed the room.
    Spotting Vanessa, and the empty wineglass on the end table, he reversed David's question. "Are you ready for them?"
    The President purposefully disregarded his adviser's concern. "Vanessa's got a mild case of stage fright, but, as you know, she always comes through."
    "Maybe we're rushing her. If she doesn't feel up to it--2'
    "Nonsense. She's up to it." He turned toward his wife aid extended his arm. "Ready, darling?"
    She came to her feet and slowly walked toward them, not looking directly at either man.

    EXCLUSIVE 27
    One of David's personality traits was to ignore things he didn't want to acknowledge, such as the dislike between his wife and his top adviser. To fill the awkward silence, he said, "Doesn't she look beautiful tonight, Spence?"
    "Indeed, Mr. President."
    "Thank you," Vanessa replied stiffly. As they stepped into the hallway, she took her husband's arm and asked, "What should Dalton tell Barrie Travis?"
    "Barrie Travis the reporter?" Spence cut in. "Tell her about what?" He looked quizzically at the President.
    "She's asked Dalton for an interview with Vanessa."
    "About anything in particular?"
    "SIDS," the President replied.
    Barrie was positively giddy. Her words gushed out like water from a broken fire plug.
    "I was going through the receiving line with my date. Don't get excited.
    He's a gay friend who's still in the closet. We scratched each other's back, so to speak. He had an invitation to the reception and needed a female date, and I had an opportunity to speak directly to the President and First Lady.
    "Anyhow, I'm gliding along the receiving line, acting real cool and blase, and when I get to the President, he clasps my hand between his, swear to God, and says, `Miss Travis, thank you so much for coming. It's always a pleasure to have you at the White House. You look radiant tonight.'
    "Actually, I don't remember his exact words, but suffice it to say that I wasn't treated like a stranger, or a passing acquaintance, or even an ordinary reporter. Barbara Waiters couldn't have been more warmly greeted."
    Cronkite yawned and made himself more comfortable in the center of her bed.

    28 Sandra Brown
    "Am I boring you?" Barrie asked, pausing for breath. "You don't seem to realize the importance of my getting the first exclusive interview with the First Lady since the death of her child.
    "Actually the President mentioned it before I did. He said Mrs. Merritt had informed him of my SIDS series. He thinks it's an excellent idea and said that he urged the First Lady to participate. He commended me for raising public awareness on this heartbreaking phenomenon. Then he said that he and Mrs. Merritt would extend me their full cooperation. I was .
    . . Well, let me put it this way. If it had been sex, I would have been having multiple orgasms."
    She climbed in with Cronkite, who took up two thirds of the bed and wouldn't budge an inch. Balancing on the edge of the mattress, she added,
    "I only wish Howie had been there to see it."

Chapter
Four
    She was aware that the television was on, but it was only background noise until he heard the familiar voice. It brought his head up out of the bathroom sink, where he'd been sluicing cold water over his face. Grabbing a hand towel, he stepped around the corner into the bedroom.
    ". . . which, unfortunately, you and President Merritt share with thousands of other couples."
    He didn't recognize the reporter. She was thirtyish, maybe older.
    Shoulder-length auburn hair. Wide eyes and bee-stung lips that promised a good time, although both eyes and lips were unsmiling now. Distinctive, husky voice, unusual for a broadcast journalist; most of them sounded as though they'd graduated from the same school of sterile diction. Her name was superimposed at the bottom of the TV screen. Barrie Travis. It rang no bells.
    "The President and I were astounded to learn the number of families who experience this tragedy," Vanessa